Ngay's Choice
by Wanting Memories
Summary: The death and rebirth of Ngayulyul.


There was this pain. A dull pain which sharpened with a burning as the world, which was once stable, began to roll. To spin. First, the sheer blinding reflection on the metal below her and the shadow of the dark figure above. Then, the man above her tilted to the right and spun out of view as she felt the weight of her body gone. Then the ground was above her, then below her, then above. Quickly the world changed until she slipped silently into a dark liquid. She tried to hold her breath—not that it mattered—and instead felt the darkness grew deeper. It flushed into her mouth, eyes, nose, and ears. Even her pores became consumed until she felt nothing more.

Nothing.

And then there was this light. She noticed it first when it silhouetted her dulled finger tips. No claws. She held up her hand, straining to see her scales in the dead, dull light. Instead her hand was brown and flesh. She reached her hand up; to the touch it was soft.

She turned to look toward the source of the light and noticed longer red hair fall loosely into her face. No braids, no wraps. Just tight natural curls. Touching her side, she felt skin, no robe, no cloth of any type. Her outstretched arm bared no scars. Not even her intentional markings she gave herself when she came of age. She growled slightly at this, and it sounded strange through her flat teeth.

She had heard of deafening booms—even experienced it thanks to the drow—but she would never assumed there was such thing as deafening silence literally. But, there it was. She felt her growl die away and then there were no other ripples. She cursed, she opened her mouth to call out for anyone she knew. The small elf in particular.

Nothing.

This warmth. Her god was not particularly warm from what she understood. Justice was hardly warm. Though, she didn't know that much. She had just recently adopted a deity for the first time in her life, and wasn't sure if god was good.

The warmth resounded and created ripples over her skin, softly. The ripples reached her ears and formed words she understood. They ran up from her fingertips and said:

"You are coming back."

And a new sensation flooded up from her navel. "Hold on."

She dropped to her knees panting. It was almost tickling, soft and sweet. And so warm. Her muscles couldn't stand up to those sounds traveling over her skin.

She breathed out and asked "Why hold on?"

From her knees came the answer "They are keeping you there."

She leaned back at her knees, bent over her feet. This was an old comforting position she used to relax in as a child.

"You have a choice to make."

Her toes tingled and she closed her eyes. "What?"

Ripples on her palms indicated human or fiend. "Renewal or remain as you were."

She opened her mouth to eagerly respond "Huma—"

So much depends upon one answer.

She believed it a curse to begin with. But now—

Her whole life, she lived under the shadow of where she was from. She accepted what she was given as true and good. The only thing she lived for was for other people's glory and guides.

Then she went to sleep one night, and woke up different. The world no longer looked at her ideals and morals, but at her eyes and fangs. She now had to fight to be heard. She now had to decide if her convictions were worth struggling for. She had to find what worked for her. She was now an individual.

Though, this was a difficult everyday, she was vindicated.

When she awoke she was cold. She was sure she'd be cold for the rest of her life as long as she remembered that warmth in the darkness.

Sputtering and breathing heavily through new lungs she felt renewed. The scars on her arms, face, and breast were gone—she knew. She rolled over on the table where she lay and pushed herself up, scraping her claws on the polished wood.

The eyes around her, the few that were, seemed surprised. Seemed shocked even.

"A fiend." One said—she believed it must have been from Torin.

Though she was still catching her breath she smiled.

"A fiend…"

* * *

A/N: So Ngayulyul is one of my D&D characters. She was a human monk, but an incident changed her into a half fiend. She struggles now with the newer evil and lingering goodness within her. At one point in our campagne, she was beheaded in battle. Her comrades took a part of her body to a wizard and paid to have her brought back. Our DM gave me the choice of whether she'd regain her full humanity or not. Technically, when you are revived, it is like being born anew with all old injuries gone, but your DNA still in place. The fiend had become part of her DNA, but also was not her original form. It was a toss up. As a character, Ngay is more powerful as a half fiend. More importantly than that, her personality progressed only because she was cursed with this. It wasn't too hard to chose, but I found myself almost saying "human" automatically, just as she nearly did.


End file.
